The Witch's Assistant
by The High-Fives For Nothing
Summary: Max is a young witch, only fifteen years of age and still playing with petty little school-girl spells. When the council assigns her a new "assistant" to train, her world is flipped around. AU. FAX. Full summary inside
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry about the length of this chapter...I swear that normally they shall be MUCH longer! :)**

**FULL SUMMARY:**

**Max is a young witch, only fifteen years of age and still playing with petty little school-girl spells.… Despite that, everyone believes she's going to be pretty powerful like her mother was...you know, once she's a woman. When the council assigns her a new "assistant" that she must train, her world is flipped around completely. But her new assistant isn't all that he seems to be. There's dark things lurking behind the walls of the castle, and even darker things seem to be coming out. And worse: they're targeting _her_. **

**Read and review, pllllleeeeassse! XD  
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**~HFFN~  
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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Plaything<strong>

There is fog everywhere, coming from all directions, surrounding me. I can't see everything…just blips of things. Only half of them.

(If even that.)

The sky is a dark gray, like…like it's made out of concrete. There are black clouds too and I see lightning illuminate the sky, temporarily letting me see that I'm in the woods. The rain beats down on me and I bask in how good it feels against my aching skin. Water droplets drip down my back and down my dress, making the green cloth stick to me. My normally blonde-brown hair is a dark brown since it's wet, and it hangs in heavy clumps, weighing me down. It usually flows freely down to my waist.

(I really need to get a haircut soon.)

"Such a beautiful girl," they'd tell me. Not that I really understand why, since there were plenty of even _more_ stunning girls in the town, making me pale in comparison. Like Maggie Task, with her platinum blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. Or like Sierra Bonne, with her black hair and deep brown eyes, ones that always seemed happy. Both of them are the kind of girls that will always make you happy, simply just because _they're_ happy. Whereas I can't do that. I'm not _nearly _as pleasant to be around as they are.

I feel an invisible hand pulling mine and I look around but see nothing. Absolutely nothing.

("A ghost," they would have said.)

"Life's a game we're meant to lose, you know," I hear someone tell me casually, like it's an everyday thing to talk about.

(Which it might very well be.)

I whip my head around, looking for the source of the noise, but I don't see anything. Just dark, exactly like before.

I look down at my pale hand, luminescent against everything else, were I can still feel something cradling it, and I do see another hand this time. It's attached to an arm, but then the fog is covering up the rest of whoever it is. I hear another voice, a woman's.

"Max, come home! Come home, Max! We miss you! We love you!" she cries urgently. I try to say something. I try to tell her, "It's alright, I'm right here! I'll come! I'll come! I need to find my way out first!" but when I open my mouth, no noise comes out.

"Max! Max, where are you? Are you okay? Did they get you? Oh, I need you here with me! I can't stand it any longer!" I hear another voice sob. This time, it's a little girl's voice. A little girl who couldn't be anymore than six or seven.

(Though she sounds very heartbroken, and might very well be older.)

And I try to run; I try to make my way towards them, but that hand holds me back, not letting go. No matter how hard I pull, I can't get away. I can't run. I hear a whisper right next to my ear. "You're mine now," it says. I shiver at the tone of it. Hungry. Hungry like a wolf. Like…like it's about to take me and eat me and…

"I'm not letting you get to them. You aren't about to get away from me that easily!" it continues. There's another flash of lightning and then a clap of thunder.

I scream. There's something clawing and biting at my leg and I try to shake it off, but it won't let go. It's stubborn. It has a firm grip. And that won't help me at all. No, no, not at all…

"Max!" I hear them all yell simultaneously, except this time there's a boy's voice added in. He sounds familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. If I had the time, I would be trying to wrack my brain to remember whom it belongs to, but I don't, so I can't.

"NO! You're _MINE!_" the…Wolf, we'll call it, howls. The thing that's still attached to my leg growls angrily.

"Let…me…_GO_!" I scream at the Wolf, tugging and pulling as hard as I possibly can. I need to get to them. I need them. I need them _desperately_.

I furiously rip my hand away the Wolf's, punch him in where I assume is his gut, and run, my skirt billowing after me. That thing flew off of me when I pulled away.

(Thank God.)

My hair is whipping my face, and I can't see well at all. But I guess it doesn't make much of a difference, considering the fog makes it nearly impossible for me to be able to see anywhere but five feet in front of me. Something terrible could be right in front of my nose and I wouldn't even know it.

There's a clap of thunder in the distance that frightens me. I scream out and run in another direction.

I end up tripping over something that I can't manage to make out and land in the mud. I accidentally scrape my arm on something on the way down, and it stings very badly. My hands are covered in mud, as is the rest of me, but I don't have time to clean myself off, because I hear footsteps running towards me. And shouting. Plenty of shouting. More than what I appreciate.

"This way!" the woman tells me and I can barely make out a figure a couple of feet to my right. Her hand is outstretched and I take it gratefully. She runs swiftly along the blind road like she's done it every day of her entire life, while I stumble after her like a drunkard.

We can still hear the pounding footsteps and the storm in the distance, but she doesn't say anything about it. We make plenty of twists and turns. So many, in fact, that no matter how hard I try, I can't remember how many there are and the ways back like I normally can.

(I've always been very good at memorizing things. I used to live in a huge city with my mom and dad and two sisters, and that gave me loads of practice.)

"He's catching up!" I shout, like she doesn't already know that. She ignores me though and we keep running. Sooner or later, we end up at a clearing, which I can see because the fog and the storm are both lifting up.

It's a field. A plain, wheat field, but there is a cute little cottage and two other people standing in the middle of it. I run towards them like my life depends on my getting to them.

(Which it might very well.)

I see that the two people are the little girl and a boy who looks to be about my age, fifteen. The little girl has blonde hair and bright blue eyes, while the boy is basically the exact opposite of her, with his black hair and his dark eyes.

I smile at the sight of them and the girl beams back at me. The boy just sort of grins, and I know that he doesn't normally do that. I'm nearly to them now.

"MAX! LOOK OUT!" the little girl warns me, looking alarmed by something. I turn around in time to see the Wolf pounce on me. He's now some sort of mix between a wolf and a man, his face elongated, a snout and a tail, but he still has plenty of human features.

I yell out in panic as he pins me down to the ground, paws/hands on my shoulders. He bares his teeth and growls at me, eyes glowing a sinister red. I press the side of my head to the ground, trying to get as far away from him as I can, but that doesn't do much.

"I told you that you can't get away that easily," he says, his lips curled back in a smirk, directed at me, like it's all some sort of joke.

(It probably is to him.)

I understand now. I was never going to be able to get away from him. He was just letting me run for entertainment.

We were just playing cat and mouse.

Apparently my expression shows something of realization, and he laughs freely at me and then smiles, something that has a sarcastic sweetness behind it.

"Such a pretty thing," he coos, tipping his head to the side to get a better look at me. I gulp as his half-hand-half-paw comes up and strokes my cheek. He drags one claw down my cheek, drawing blood. "I think…I might _not_ kill you," he says, almost to himself. "You could be my plaything for a little while…before you get boring. But I'm sure there are plenty of other friends of mine who wouldn't mind having you either…" he trails off.

"So what do you think, honey?" he asks me sweetly, like I have any say at all. My face contorts in rage and disgust.

He smirks. This just angers me even more, and in a moment of adrenaline, I spit in his face. He pulls back and I take this as my chance, punching him in the gut and pushing him off of me. I jump to my feet while he sits there in shock for a second.

By the time he's come to his senses, I've already run away as fast as I possibly can, in the opposite direction as the cottage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for such a late update. :-/ I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue or not.**

~**HFFN**~

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><p><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>

**The Angel**

I bolt straight up in my bed, panting, a scream about to escape from my chest.

The sheets of my bed are wrapped around my waist and legs from my tossing and turning in my sleep. I don't take well to nightmares, you know. I don't think very many people do, to be honest.

I sit there for a moment, taking in where I am, what's going on and what has just happened. I groan and lay on my back, staring tiredly up at the white ceiling. Unfortunately for me, my dreams—nightmares, pleasant ones, any of them really—normally come true. Not always, but a lot of times. It has something to do with me being a witch. Every mage has a different power. Fang's is being able to change a person's emotions and become invisible at will; Angel's is reading minds—but then again, she isn't really a mage. She's more of a spirit than anything.

I breathe in deeply, releasing the air as slow as possible, squeezing my eyes shut in annoyance. I sigh and mutter to myself, "Well, that's just lovely. Yet another problem to deal with." I twirl my hair around one finger, thinking. For some reason, the thought of what (I'm pretty sure) is going to happen doesn't scare me. You'd think that I'd be dreading it—and I am, but…it doesn't cause that gut-wrenching feeling of fear that I probably should be feeling. Maybe I ought to take my lack of concern to heart, but I don't.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and sit up again. I scratch my head and stretch, popping my fingers and knuckles, yawning. It occurs to me that it's been nearly a year since I last slept in my own bed. I'm not sure if that's a good thing…or a bad thing.

I glance at the wall clock, seeing that it says that the time is 4:23, and the sun is just rising over the horizon. Mamie isn't there today—she's visiting her family in the village. I'm happy that she gets to see them again, but at the same time, I miss her terribly. She had told me that she'd be gone for maybe only three days, but even that, I know, will seem like an eternity. I grumble something about the time to myself and walk to my closet impatiently. I slip off my scratchy white night gown and pick up the first dress that I see. It's green and lacey, as per usual. The corset is my least favorite part of my outfit, next to the shoes that tend to pinch my toes. The corset is rather hard to get on and chokes me just about the whole day. Most girls my age would love wearing this—minus the corset—but there's a saying that I've always believed true: the grass is greener on the other side. I like living here—it's better than on the streets, I'll give you that—but at the same time, I'd like a little excitement in my life.

_Well,_ I think cynically as I tug the dress over my head, _if my dream comes true, there's bound to be._

*****7 MONTHS PRIOR *****

I took a deep breath and picked up the scissors. I ran my hand through my tangled mane until it was near the bottom and began chopping my horrendous excuse for hair off until it was at my collarbone. I didn't dare go farther than that though. Making it look worse wasn't going to help my case.

I picked up what remained of my locks and threw them away in the trash bin. I looked in the mirror for a couple more minutes before exiting and shutting myself off in my room for the night. I did that often; mother checked on me a couple of times within the night but never really said anything about my being so closed-off. But that was okay. I didn't want her to. All I wanted to do was to be left alone to practice my spells.

No one at my school knew that I was a witch. I had never told anyone—the only person that knew was my mother, a couple of other wizard-families that lived in our town, and the council. Not even my father knew. But that was okay too because he couldn't have known and it wasn't even his fault. He died when I was five and I didn't find out I was a witch until I was eight. Mother said he was killed in a car crash, but sometimes I wonder if it was more than that, the way she would talk about it. My mother's a witch too, but that doesn't always mean that her children are going to be, which would be why we didn't know if I was or not.

Sometimes I wondered if the kids at school actually _did_ know that I was a witch—maybe that's why they were always so mean to me. Mother always said that mortals were normally jealous of us. Not all of them, she'd remind me gently, but quite a few, especially around there. And that's why only the council and immortals knew that there were a couple of other witch/wizard families living in the city. It was in the immortal handbook: the only people you can tell of your abnormality were a fellow immortal. Of course, we weren't actually immortal: we could die just as soon or just as easily as any other person (except we had spells and magic to protect us) but we liked to call ourselves that. Or, well, _I _liked to call us that. It made me feel more important somehow. I'm not completely sure, honestly…

I lied down on my bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment, not used to the feeling of not having a bundle of hair against my back. I didn't like it and I instantly regretted chopping it all off. But it was too late by then; what was done was done and there was no way to reversing it.

Actually, that was a lie. I read about a spell for growing your hair but it would take a lot of concentration, something that I was never good at. Any spells to do with growth, rebirth, and all that junk—they always took a lot of energy. But it was worth a shot anyways. Might as well try, right? What was the worst that could happen?

So I pulled myself off of my bed, somewhat reluctantly, and grabbed my spell-book off of my book-shelf, which was full to the brim. The book had a charm enchanted upon it so that no one without the permission from the owner of it would be able to open it. It was my mother's old charm and spell book and it had a memory of all its old masters, so of course it opened for her automatically. I flipped through the beaten up pages of the book, looking for the "H" section until I found it. It wasn't in alphabetical order, either, so it was a lot harder to navigate.

When I did find it, I read through the spell carefully, repeating it over and over again in my head so that when I said it aloud, I wouldn't get it wrong. Pronunciation was very important when it came to performing magic, nearly as important as concentration.

I closed my eyes and put my hands on the book. I wiped my mind completely blank of anything besides the spell and started feeling a tingling feeling in my hands. The tingling feeling grew until my hands were seemingly on fire, though it was a good fire. It felt…nice. That's how spells forming on your fingertips always felt—as if you're freezing and burning at the same time, minus the pain. I felt the hair slowly growing down from my collarbone to my shoulders, to my back, to my waist—wait! Crap! I didn't want it that long!

I stopped thinking about the spell and then about my hair to keep the spell from continuing to work. I pulled the long bundle of straw-colored and ran my hands through it. I actually kind of liked it; the more I looked at it, the more it appealed to me. It was kind of like Rapunzel, you know? Except for the fact that I wasn't a damsel in distress who needed saving. But whatever—it didn't matter.

So I kept it that way. No one at school would notice that my hair spontaneously grew, like, two feet; no one ever noticed me. The only time they even said anything towards me was to insult me. A couple of times, I'd meet a few people who would be decent to me when the main bullies weren't around, but they'd ignore me again when they came back. There were a couple of kids who bullied just about anyone and so if you didn't ignore and/or insult me, you were in some trouble. Because of that, I never really minded when those few nice kids stopped being so nice to me. I wouldn't have wanted them to get emotionally or physically hurt just because they weren't ignoring my presence. It did get rather lonely though.

I didn't normally like to do that—use magic on myself, I mean. Mother would figure out and she was always afraid that I would mess it up and something terrible would happen. I guess she had reason to be afraid of that though—her brother did that. He was trying to do something or another to himself and he ended up doing the spell wrong. He didn't die, but he was hurt badly. After my father died, she'd been very protective of me. She still gave me the space I needed, but she was very cautious about…well, really only magic.

I stayed in my room the whole night after that. I was drawing and practicing my spells, but mainly just drawing. I would sketch anything I felt like. My cat Georgia, Mother, a scene from a book, and at one point I drew a self-portrait. In my picture I my hair was long and messy, my face was littered with blemishes, and I was also…crying. In the picture, I mean. I wasn't _actually _crying. I just drew what I felt doing and what I felt that I looked like. In hindsight, I realize that I shouldn't have acted so weak and that I was never ugly—that was only the pessimistic side of me, _telling_ me that I was ugly. But if you had asked me that then, I would have said that was the realistic side of me.

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><p>That next Saturday morning, Mother and I got a surprise in the mail.<p>

"Max!" Mother yelled, coming down the hallway and into my bedroom where the door was wide open. "Max, you have mail," she said. I looked up from where I was sitting criss-cross on my bed, and caught the envelope that she tossed at me. I turned it around in my hands so I could see the return address and squealed.  
>"IT'S FROM THE COUNCIL!" I all but screamed, about to hyperventilate.<p>

Mother ran back into the room and plopped down on my bed next to me. I showed it to her and then we looked at each other in kind of a wonderstruck way. This was the first time that I'd gotten a letter from the Council and usually that meant one thing.

After reading it, Mother blurted out happily, "You're getting an assistant!" We laughed, giddy from joy and kind of stunned. "My baby finally is getting an assistant!"

I swear, sometimes—like then—Mother acted like a teenager (minus the "my baby" thing). But that was okay, because if she didn't, she wouldn't have been Mother. "I'm getting an assistant!" I repeated.

Getting an assistant was a big deal. Not every witch got to have one (Gosh, I talk about them like they're some sort of item you can buy at a store) so it was a sort of honor to be either chosen to be the "assistant" or to be the "instructor". And I got to be the instructor, which means that they'd been keeping an eye on me, and they thought that I would be a good enough enchantress so I could teach someone else.

"Who does it say I'm assigned to?" I asked her. She looked over it a couple of seconds before telling me, "It says that you've been assigned to Nicholas Walker…. Hmm…that name doesn't sound familiar. Maybe they just moved in…"

It was more exciting than you think it would be. At the same time, I was super nervous. What if I messed something up? What if he hated me? Would we get along? What if he was a jerk? Would he be my age, or younger, or older, or WHAT?

I kept up like that for the next couple of weeks, a nervous wreck. That feeling of "Oh no" never left, following me everywhere that I went. I wondered what it would be like if I had friends that I could tell about the whole deal. But I didn't—I mean, sure, I had semi-friends but obviously they couldn't know that I wasn't like them. I kind of liked the idea of finally having someone to talk to about everything, the whole ordeal, but at the same time, I wanted everything to stay the way it was. I wanted it to stay familiar…

My entire world really flipped around when the council sent Angelia to come deal with me.

The council very, very rarely sent someone out to the instructors—usually it was the "assistants" that were allowed visits—but I guess that some things needed to be cleared up or something, because they made Angelia go.

Angelia was a lot younger than I thought she would be. She seemed to be only around seven years of age, with bright, crystal blue eyes and blonde ringlets surrounding her pale, heart-shaped face.

One thing needs to be cleared up before I continue my story: Angelia wasn't really a person. She was sort of a ghost—a spirit…but not really. She could feel the same as a human, but she appeared more like smoke. When she came to me, they didn't make her knock or anything, but when I got home from school, she was sitting on my bed, staring at one of my old stuffed animals.

I screamed. Her head snapped up to look at me, standing shell-shocked, with one hand on my heart. "W-who are you?" I asked skeptically, closing the door behind me. She smiled brightly, eyes lighting up. "I'm Angelia, but everybody just calls me Angel. The Council sent me to help you out." She shrugged nonchalantly, plating her platinum blonde hair and then un-plating it again.

I nodded, still confused. "But…wait…why did they send you to me? I thought it was normally the assistant that was sent a..." I paused, not sure what to call her.

"Technically, we're angels," she said, filling in my blank. "And not always. You're one of the few that need me to help you."

"Um…okay, what do I need help with exactly?" I raised an eyebrow and put a hand on my hip, feeling a little more Max-ish. "Last time I checked, I didn't need a help from any angel that the Council sends."

Her eyes flashed, almost dangerously, and but I didn't back down. I got the feeling that she was extremely wise for a seven year old, a lot more than she should have been. She pushed herself off the bed and sort of drifted towards the stuffed animal she'd been eyeing. It was a white teddy bear with brown button eyes, fur scuffed up, smiling happily at nothing. "They know that you're nervous—more nervous than they've ever seen, actually."

_That doesn't make any sense. And what does being nervous have to do with anything? _I thought.

"It has to do with everything, actually. How well you do depends on how you feel. If you're nervous while performing magic, something could go terribly wrong," she said, cradling the teddy bear and then sitting on my bed again. Seeing my shocked expression, she told me as if it were no big deal, "Oh, and, yeah, I can read minds."

"Wait, wait, wait." I sat down on my chair, crossing my ankles out of habit. "Why does that mean that they have to send you?"

She didn't look up from the teddy bear, too busy playing with it. "There are also a couple of other things that I need to tell you," she said, "regarding your new assistant."

"Shoot."

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for something. Her eyes opened wide, her back straightened up, and her blue eyes burned an almost blinding white. She sucked air into her lungs as if she had been drowning and then closed her mouth abruptly. She spoke robotically, staring off in the distance.

"Maximum Ride of Fiera Hills, the Council has a message for you. Listen carefully; for I am not able repeat it.

"You are to spend two hours every day with your assistant, teaching him as much as you can in that time. He is to only stay with you for a month before returning to his own home and you to your studies. You must teach him as much as needed in that period of time. If you fail to do so, you will be sent to the Council."

I swallowed hard. "And what happens then?"

"Bad things."

Taking a deep breath, I nodded and told myself, _It's okay Max. Calm down. Freaking out isn't going to help anything at all. _

"One more thing," Angel said, still speaking mechanically. "You have been requested to come to the castle and live there for a short extent of time. You do not have to, but it would benefit both yourself and your family if you agreed."

My breath hitched in my throat. I would be allowed to live in the castle? That was, like, every one's dream, honestly. To live in a life of luxury…though I knew that that wouldn't mean that I was pampered, but still! Anyone would've been out of there mind not to take that offer up. And since at that point I was still sane, I later said yes, once I'd talked it over with my mom.

Of course, that was one of the last times I was able to see my mother. One completely normal day at school, some patrol guards arrived and asked me to come with them to the hospital. I obliged, confused and worried, letting them give me a ride. I didn't want them too, since I'd always been wary of strangers, but I needed to see my mother and that was the fasts option.

"So…you're little Maximum Ride, right?" Smith, I think it was, asked, trying to make small talk while I stared blankly at my feet, mind still whirling. I didn't answer. He had salt and pepper hair, cut down to a buzz cut that had grown out some, and a mustache. He was big and buff and probably was supposed to be intimidating, but he didn't particularly scare me. Not just because he was part of the law enforcement and therefore the chance that he'd actually hurt me were small—but because by then, I had learned a lot more magic. I could easily take him out if I needed too, though I knew that there was a chance I would pass out from using too much energy afterwards.  
>He tried again. "You don't seem as little as they always say, you know."<p>

That time I spoke up. "You all talk about me?"

He glanced at me through the mirror. "Well, your mother is pretty famous with us. I knew her growing up, and so did a couple of my friends. She used to always come to see us, holding you in her arms, your dad next to you…" he trailed off. I went back to staring out at my feet.

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago," I mumbled into my hand after a little bit. "Dad's not even alive anymore."

"I'm sorry to bring up that subject," he apologized. "I knew that it was a sore spot, but I just wasn't thinking, I suppose." I only nodded even though I knew he couldn't see.

After what seemed like forever, we arrived there and I hurried, feeling the strangely familiar sensation of anxiety swell up in my stomach, and I told myself to calm down. It wasn't necessarily even something too bad, I reminded myself, though somewhere I knew that it was just a lie, the same kind of a lie a parent would tell to their children to give them hope.

Of course, since this was my life, it did end up being something pretty serious. She was put into a coma, actually, when she got into a terrible accident. They wouldn't tell me what exactly happened, but that I should just know the seriousness of her coma. And I did. I sure as heck did. I don't think I had ever cried as much as I did that night…at least not since I found out as a little girl that my daddy had died.

She didn't wake up for a rather long time, too. Sooner rather than later, I was shipped off to the castle where the king and queen lived, along with the members of the mage council. I was given my own room, on the third floor, in the right wing, along with my maid. A _maid_. Why would I honestly need one? I wanted to ask them, but I knew better than to turn down such a gracious offer. And besides, Mamie ended up being my first ever good friend, even though she was twenty-eight—thirteen years older than me.

I remember exactly what happened when I first met my assistant. Mamie woke me up early in the morning, at about 5:00 AM, and had me take a quick bath. My hair was all done up in a complicated bun, with a couple pieces hanging in my face. She slipped a lacey dress over my head and went to work on the corset that I still hadn't gotten used to wearing, since I'd only been at the castle for two days.

"What…exactly…am I doing?" I managed out while she tied the lace up in the back as tight as she could. She noticed that I was doing terrible job breathing and quickly loosened it, and even though she loosened a generous amount, it still hurt my sides.

"You finally get to meet you're new assistant!" she answered, the last word in a singsong voice. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly at her, setting my hands on my hips. "Why exactly do I have to get all dressed up for then?" I inquired, looking at us in the mirror across the room. She was looking at her hands, trying to get the last couple of them tied, but it seemed she was having a hard time. Mamie had dark, dark, dark brown hair—almost black—right past her collar bone and bright blue eyes that always seemed to know something that no one else did, kind of like a cat's. She had what my mom would call an "elf nose" and freckles sprinkled all across her cheeks, nose, forehead, and shoulders, making her skin look even paler than it already was. Her dimples showed up while she smiled or laughed (which she did a lot), and she was pretty tall for her age. She wasn't super skinny, but definitely wasn't overweight either, and she often had her hair up in a perfect braid that I never figured out how to achieve.

"You need to look 'presentable'," she said, pulling her hands away from the corset for a moment to do air quotation marks around the last word. Her mistake though, because then she lost the only one she had left to tie, resulting in her having to start over on the last one.

Once that was over, she put her hands on my arms, steered me towards one of the many full-length, extravagant mirrors, and put her chin on top of my head. "Awww," she said, "look how pretty you are!" I shrugged in response, looking myself over. I didn't think really agree with her on that. "And Max, I'm not just saying that because you're wearing that dress or anything, but because you really are," she reassured me, seeing my doubtful expression. I smiled at her and nodded. "Thanks Mamie."

She took her chin from the top of my head and I felt a tug at the back of my dress. After a moment, I realized that there was an orange ball of fluff pawing at the red ribbon tied at my waist. "Georgia!" I scolded her. "Stop that, you little rascal!" My old, fat cat let out a pitiful "meow!" in protest as I lifted her up, green eyes shining in an unhappy manner. "No, you can't be scratching all of these dresses up, now, Gee-gee," I said, cradling her in my arms now. They had allowed me to take my cat along to live in the castle also, for some reason, but I was thankful that they did.

Mamie clapped her hands together merrily in the way that only Mamie could, and I set Georgia on the ground, not so lightly. "Now, off we go! We can't miss breakfast and then we mustn't be late for your first ever meeting!" She squealed. "Oh, this is exciting! I wish I were a mage sometimes, then I'd get to enjoy this too…" she got a thoughtful look on her face before brightening up again and ushering me out the door and down one of the many stair cases. I hadn't any of the routes memorized, so I highly doubted that I would have been able to find my way to the dining hall on my own. I let Mamie lead me, chattering on and on about how exciting it was and how pretty I looked and what was going to happen. I tried to listen while also trying to remember the way back to my room, though that ended up being a lot more difficult than you'd think. _Okay, take a left, and then a right, then go straight, go down the left stairway, go straight, take another left, then straight, then right, then…gaaah, my brain is dying…_ So I ended up giving up that task.

However long it took us to get there; we got there, because I remember very clearly that I had a hard time eating much of my meal while the corset restricted me. It hurt to eat too much, as weird as that may sound, even though I had a fantastic opportunity to eat as much as I wanted, with all that supply of food in front of me. Mamie tried talking to me, but I was starved and when I was hungry, there was no getting to me until I was satisfied enough. A good portion of breakfast was spent in silence while I swallowed anything I could get my hands on, but after a bit and when my corset started tightening around my sides even more, I started a conversation with her.

At some point, I excused myself and tried to make my way to wash room, to no avail. I was far too prideful at the time though, and wouldn't except help, so I attempted to get there on my own…with no such luck. Sooner or later, I ended up lost and in a wing of the castle that I hadn't ever been before. I think it was…the South Wing, maybe? I didn't know and didn't care much to remember. There were many rooms, but one in particular caught my eye—I'm not sure why, since it wasn't anything much out of the ordinary, but it did anyways. The room was mainly dark, except a bit of sunlight streaming in behind the blue-and-gold, satin curtains, however little the amount of light it was. There were paintings hanging regally on the wall that I definitely couldn't make out in that terrible lighting, and rugs on the floor with elegant designs. In the middle of the room, there were two plush, white, worn-out couches facing each other, a small mahogany table placed in-between them.

Small statues of famous people were littered around the room, and one in the back was cracked. I made my way towards it, going further in the room. The farther in I went, the longer it seemed to be. I reached out my fingers to brush dust off of one of the statues, when there came a voice behind me.

"Why are you in here?" someone asked. I whirled around on my heel, nearly knocking a vase over in the process, but I managed to catch it before it could smash on the ground. "I was…um…" I stuttered. I fumbled with it for a moment, trying to get it to stay up right, suddenly feeling nervous.

In the doorway stood a boy about my age—maybe a year or two older, I couldn't tell—with hair a couple shades darker than Mamie's and it swept in the way of his dark brown eyes. He had a long nose and a prominent jaw line. His face was emotionless, set as hard and impassive as stone, but he wasn't looking at me meanly. Actually, he was just indifferent it seemed.

"Um, I got…lost…" I answered after a moment, finally finding what I needed to say. He obviously noticed me gawking at his good looks and grinned a little, just the very corners of his lips twitching upwards. Hey, I was a fifteen year old girl, of _course_ I was going to notice if he was attractive! I tried not to blush and to my fortunate luck, I managed to contain it, crossing my arms over my chest. "What's your name?" he asked, but it didn't sound like it was meant to be in a nosey or mean way. He walked towards me slowly as if he was just being cautious of me, and I unfolded my arms and set them on my hips instead. He eyed me for a moment, probably sizing me up, and waiting for a reply.

"You tell me yours first," I replied, though I wasn't rude about it. Normally, I would have been, but there at the castle, I wasn't habitual to everything, and I knew only Mamie and couple of other people. I wasn't sure what the rankings were or who he was, so I figured it'd be better to try to be even a _little_ civil for the moment.

He grinned again, seeming to be amused by my attitude. This just made me even more annoyed, but I kept my temper. "Never mind that," he answered. His voice was soft and quiet all of the sudden, like he was afraid of being overheard. "But what are you doing in this part of the castle?"

"Is there something _wrong_ with being here?" I asked, slightly confused and slightly irritated.

"Yes," he answered in deadpan, grin fading to indifference. I got the feeling that he was getting just as irritated as me underneath that emotionless mask, but what did I know? I didn't say anything, turning around and looking back at some of the paintings. One was of a little girl with red hair and blue eyes, smiling a Mona Lissa smile, holding the hand of what appeared to be her father, who was standing behind her with the same eyes and smile and nose.

"I get the feeling that you're new."

"Oh, gee, you think?" I retorted before I could remind myself that I was trying to be polite for once. But he didn't seem mad, just entertained. "And it seems like I'm your source of entertainment for the moment, right?" I said, clearly joking.

He shrugged. "You're just interesting."

I stopped and glanced at him behind me. "How so, pray tell?"

"You're just so ignorant to everything going on around here."

"I am _not_!" I defended like a little child would, and spinning on my heel to face him, my cheeks burned a bright red. I tried to make the heat leave my face, but it was no use. He smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I grumbled something unintelligible to myself but I got the feeling that he heard anyways. "I'm going to leave now," I muttered, embarrassed, and I pushed passed him, head down. I swear I saw him roll his eyes and I scowled at the floor.

"What'd you say your name was?" he asked. I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed at that overly cliché line. But just to humor him, I went along with the average response. "I didn't tell you my name."

"Well, then I need you to enlighten me."

I sighed, faking impatience, raising one eyebrow at him. "It's Max. And I swear that if you make a single comment on how that's supposed to be a boy's name, I will gut you like a fish." He grinned, not taking my threat to heart.

"Fang."

I chuckled. "Really? _Fang_?"

He shrugged one shoulder casually. "'S not like yours is any more normal."

I glared at him. "Touché, Claw, touché. Now if you don't very much mind, I need to be getting back to Mamie," I said, and all of my intentions were to leave and get back to the dining hall.

"Mamie?"

"Yeah…Mamie. You know her?" I asked, confused, staying there even though I knew that I really should've been getting back to her.

"_You_ do?"

"'Course I do! She's my ma—" I started to answer, but was cut off by a loud clatter from somewhere near. My head snapped around to the open doorway, but the noise increased. There was an awful lot of shouting and profanities that seem to be coming from a younger man. "What's going on?" I said, even though I knew that he probably didn't know. He pushed passed me and out the door. "Fang!" I yelled after him. "What's going on…?" but he didn't hear me because he was hurrying down one of the many long stairways, towards where we heard the noise. I raced after him, trying to keep up, though that ended up being harder than expected. "Good lord, boy, could you _go_ any faster?" I mumbled sarcastically, but kept after him.

I was just starting to get tired of all the steps that the stairway contained when we came to the end of it. It opened up into another room, and there a woman with mocha skin and frizzy brown hair pulled back in a bun, was on the floor on her knees, hurrying to pick some things up. She seemed to be in her early thirties or so. A man stood in front of her, looking angry. She winced every time he said/shouted something more, looking apologetic for whatever it was that she had done. The man didn't seem to be very old—actually, he only seemed to be in his early twenties, with light brown hair—nearly blonde—and sparkling blue eyes.

"What have I told you?" he yelled at the woman. The woman, who was scrambling to get from her knees, holding a couple of pans in her arms, looked afraid. "How long will it be until you can do something right for once? I—"

"Vincent!" Fang seemed to growl, looking appalled. Vincent looked up from the poor woman—since he was a lot taller than her, even though she seemed to be a lot older—and glared at him. "What do you want, N—"

"What are you doing to her?" he cut Vincent off hurriedly. I wondered briefly why, but brushed it off after a moment.

Vincent instantly straightened up, trying to look…intimidating, maybe? I wasn't so sure. "She simply keeps messing everything up. It's not like they're very difficult tasks, either, it's just that she's incapable of doing anything the right way."

"She was just trying to help you. There was no harm done, and therefore, you have no reason to traumatize her," he said, scowling at Vincent. I knelt down next to the woman and helped her with the pots and pans she'd dropped, and she thanked me with her eyes. I nodded in response, telling her that it was fine.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Oh, because you have _so_ much power over me," he said, sarcasm dripping in his voice. Fang growled again. He ignored this. "I have permission to do whatever I want with any of the chamber keepers. I had her do a task that she could not complete, and I can put a word into to—"

"That's _enough_," Fang interrupted him in a stern voice that held far more authority and impatience than it had previously. I helped the woman up, and handed her back her things. She tried at a smile, but it seemed more of a grimace, and she still looked a little shaken.

"And who's this _fine-looking_ girl you have with you, dear Nicholas?" Vincent continued, seeming to have just noticed me. He looked me up and down, eyes racking me almost hungrily, and I just managed to suppress from twisting my face in disgust. I suddenly felt a lot more vulnerable and self-conscious than I had before. I had the right mind to slap that disturbing Cheshire cat grin off his pretty little face and kick him where it counts, the way he was looking at me.

That name, Nicholas, sounded oddly familiar, but where had I heard it before? I didn't think much of it, because Vincent grabbed my hand suddenly and pressed his lips to it in what I assume was supposed to be a charming manner. I didn't say anything, looking up at him through my lashes, that way it didn't look like I was glaring, even though I actually was. I tried my best not to yank my hand back too fast when he let go of it. I wiped the back of my hand on the skirt of my dress where he couldn't see. Though I admit that he was a pretty handsome man, he definitely wasn't worth the time. I'd only known him for a couple of minutes and I knew that. I turned my head to the right so they only saw my profile. My hair swept in front of about half of my face and I kept it that way, trying to hide myself from Vincent. He gave me the creeps.

"What's your name, darling?" He asked, bowing his head slightly.

"Maxine," I said, trying again at the whole "polite" thing. He smirked.

"Vincent Daddiaro Mark," he replied, "the pleasure is mine. May I know why you were brought to the castle, dear Maxine?"

"Never _you_ mind," Fang hissed at him before I could answer, stepping up a little. I noticed that he had his arm out some in front of me, as if to protect me from Vincent. I mentally scoffed at that—however sweet it might have been, I definitely did _not_ need saving. The woman looked uncomfortable, but I didn't know what I could say or do, that would make her more relaxed, so I just didn't say nor did I do anything. "Cora," Fang turned to the woman, "you are dismissed." Cora smiled thankfully, curtsied, and rushed off where ever it was she was going. Then he was back to Vincent, that cold look in his eyes once more. "Now, I have things I need to do. I'll discuss this with you at a later time. Come on, Max," he grumbled the last part to me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away. I gave a fleeting look at where Cora had last gone, but nearly tripped over my own feet, so I had to turn back around.

"What was that?" We went through a couple of different rooms, all of which looked rather sophisticated, and then up a cold marble stone stairway with no windows. "What was _what_?" he replied like he didn't know. I gave him a pointed look. "You know what I mean." He didn't answer.

After what seemed like forever of spiraling upwards, we reached what appeared to be a corridor of some sort, though it had humungous windows on the either side that looked down at the villagers. Fang had let go of my wrist while we were halfway up the spiral staircase. While we were passing the windows, I peered over at everyone and thought about what it must feel like, to get to see the town from that view every day. Was it a good feeling? _Of course it is_, I told myself, _why wouldn't anyone want to live in such an amazing place? I mean, you get waited on every day and even if you're the person doing the waiting, you're better off than normal villagers…right?_ I sighed and leaned over the edge slightly, seeing if I could name all of the shops and carts and what they were called and who owned them. In case you wanted to know: I could.

"What're you doing?" Fang asked quietly, coming to stand beside me. I glanced at him, and then went back to looking out. "Well…I'm naming all the shops," I answered truthfully.

"You can do that?"

I tapped my temple twice. "Former villager, remember?" He only nodded, looking over the side too. "I've never really been out of here long enough to learn the names," he muttered almost inaudibly. I studied him for a moment. "Um…would you want me to show you what's what?" I asked, feeling stupid for some reason. He nodded again.

I pointed to a small shop in the north east, over plenty of land, though I could still see it well. The red shingles on the roof were coming off and there was a sign that had the name of it, though it was barely readable from where we were. "That's _Leander's, _which sells parchment, ink, quills, books, and any other things of that sort. I knew Leander Mark very well, and sometimes as a child, my dad and I would walk over there and Mr. Mark would read stories to me. Sometimes Dad would too, but he didn't always. That's actually how I learned to read.

"And that place," I pointed to a shop right next to _Leander's_, "used to be run by my mother's Uncle Franklin, but he died a couple years back. He was so sweet too—the nicest old man either of us ever knew."

Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor opened and a young man who seemed to be around seventeen with bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair walked out. He jumped slightly when he realized that we were standing there. "James, what are you…?" Fang started to say.

James answered his sort-of question. "They need you in there now." The dark haired boy only nodded somewhat reluctantly. He told James to tell them that he'd be right there and to be a little patient. James agreed to that and went back in the room.

"Why are you here?" he asked me.

I gave him a confused look. "Why am I here?" I repeated, raising one eyebrow in question.

He nodded.

"It was…so I could…instruct someone, I suppose." I answered, glancing out the window again. Though I'd been vague, he seemed to understand perfectly. "Great." He started towards where James had went, not looking at me.

"…Um…why is that so great, may I ask?" I followed him, perplexed.

He grinned slightly, hand resting on the rusted latch. "You're my new teacher."


End file.
